Tales of Duncan
by dedanaan
Summary: This will be a string of ficlets filling in the history of Duncan Farlong, owner of The Sunken Flagon in the docks district of Neverwinter. Ficlet 4 has now been uploaded. Jan 10, 2007.
1. Chapter 1

"What did he do now?" Shayla asked as Daeghun strode into the room with his younger brother grasped firmly by the collar of his tunic.

"I caught him fighting with Gregor Redfell," Daeghun sighed as he let go of his brother's collar. "Go to your room and stay there, Duncan," he admonished.

"Wait a moment," Shayla stopped her teenaged brother-in-law as he turned to go. "You're going to need that split lip taken care of."

"Leave it be," Duncan growled, shrugging off her concern in that typically exaggerated teenaged manner.

"Have it your way." Shayla shook her head. "Can you at least tell me why it was you were fighting this time?"

"Gregor called me a 'big girl's blouse'", Duncan spat, wincing as the stinging pain from his split and bloodied lip lanced through him. "Then he told me I should watch out for the Mossfield brothers in case they mistook me for a pretty girl when they're in their cups."

"He's just jealous because he's got the face of a troll," Shayla placated, trying not to laugh at the indignant look on Duncan's face. She settled for holding out a square of linen towards him. "If you're not going to let me fix that," she gestured towards his face, "at least clean it up so I don't have to look at the blood." Duncan took the proffered kerchief and pressed it to his mouth with a muttered thank you before turning and stomping off in the direction of his room.

Daeghun sank into a chair once Duncan had left. He dropped his head into his hands and exhaled in a forceful expression of frustration. "I don't know what to do with him, Shayla."

"He needs time, Daeghun. His mother just died and your father went and set sail for Evermeet without even a thought towards him. He's grieving, not to mention how let down and abandoned he feels. He's the only half-elven boy in the village, it's only natural the other children pick on him because he's different. They don't know any better and it's up to us to show them the error of their ways."

"Ah, Shayla, you're ever the optimist," Daeghun chuckled as he shook his head. "He needs discipline…"

"He needs love and acceptance…"

"He needs a good, swift kick up the arse, is what he needs."

"Give him some room, Daeghun. Being here with us is as new for him as it is for you."

"You don't sound too traumatised."

"I accept him for what he is."

"Hmmph…"

"You know I'm right. Your father lived in such a remote place, even once he married Selena. Duncan has probably never had to deal with such teasing before."

"Then we should take him out with us next time we go on the road. Esmerelle promised to drop in next time she's in this neck of the woods. He doesn't even know how to hold a sword, yet I'll admit he's good with a bow."

"Your father was a master of the bow. It would be stupid if Duncan wasn't at least minimally proficient with the bloody thing."  
"Yet there are so many gaps in his education."

"So! Fix it, then."

"I will… Duncan!"

Shayla wondered for a moment if her brother-in-law would answer the summons. He did and she was truly grateful for it.

"So, Duncan, ever thought about a life in the army?"


	2. Chapter 2

"So, Duncan, ever thought about a life in the army?"

And that had been the way his brother had sent him packing the first time. When it had happened, Duncan had been so sure Daeghun was only doing it to get rid of him. It had been four years since he'd joined the military and it was time for him to move on with his life. Tomorrow was Shieldmeet and his contract was up. Four years ago, tomorrow, Daeghun and Shayla had brought him to the keep and watched while he signed away his freedom in order to learn some of the much-vaunted discipline his brother was always harping on about. He could re-sign if he wanted to become a career soldier, but he didn't feel like it. While he had learned much these past four years, he was more enthralled with the idea of being free to make his own way. Shayla had made him a promise when they'd said their goodbyes and he was bound and determined to take her up on it.

"When you come back to West Harbour, we'll take to the road together and you can impress us with all you've learned," she had told him, a gentle smile lighting her face as her husband stood silent behind her, not sharing the confidence she had in his younger brother. She had pulled Duncan into a warm hug and wished him well. His parting from Daeghun had been awkward and strained in contrast. They'd really only known each other for a few months and their only common ground was their shared blood and Shayla. Duncan often wondered how his taciturn half-brother been able to persuade the vivacious and outgoing elfess to accept his suit. It must have been one hell of a speech.

The next day his commanding officer had been surprised at the fact he didn't re-sign. He'd been a good soldier; a quick study and reliable to boot once you got that temper of his tamped down. Duncan almost felt guilty at walking away from the company he had served for the past few years.

Almost.

Gathering up his meagre belongings, he was surprised at how little he had in the way of possessions. He wasn't surprised at the lightness of his coin purse, though. The local innkeeper was well-off thanks to him. Owning an inn seemed like a sweet deal to Duncan. He thought he'd maybe like to own an inn someday, when he had made his fortune and it was time to settle down. He chuckled at the thought. Him settled? That would be the day.

The month of Ches began tomorrow and already there were signs of spring popping up all over the place. The days were still cold, but not uncomfortably so and Duncan had a warm and sturdy oilskin cloak to shield him from the elements. He felt a thrill of excitement rush through him as he stepped through the portcullis of the keep that had been his home for the past four years. He shouldered his pack, checked his blades at his sides, and took to the road that would lead him back to West Harbour with a spring in his step. He was a free man.


	3. Chapter 3

Duncan was just a few days journey from West Harbour. In about an hour or so, he'd be at the village of Willowmere. There was an inn at that settlement and he would definitely be coughing up a coin or two for a night in a real bed and a tankard or two of ale. He wasn't sure he liked sleeping in barns and lean-tos, but he'd no choice at this time of year as the weather just wasn't good enough for sleeping under the stars. The hay poked and itched, the animals smelled worse than his barrack-mates (and that was saying something), and he always managed to fall asleep on the one pointy rock buried beneath the straw. He was stiffer than a ninety-year-old human first thing in the morning. Daeghun and Shayla seemed to love the adventuring life, so he supposed it must grow on you. Why would they do it, otherwise?

The journey home had been mostly uneventful so far. He'd been set upon once by a couple of thugs, but had made short work of them. They hadn't expected him to be as well equipped to defend himself as he had, and even without drawing his sword he'd beaten the pair of them to a pulp. It had given him an odd sense of satisfaction and he grinned for a moment as he imagined one of the thieves to be none other than Gregor Redfell. He still owed that bastard one for getting him sent off to the military.

As he crested the hill that led to the small valley where Willowmere was situated he came upon the most unusual sight and he stopped, surprised, to watch the scene unfold.

"Just who do you think you are?" the indignant question drifted to his ears. It was a feminine voice. "Do you have any idea how much that instrument is worth, you damned fool?" The second question was followed by the sound of boots hitting ribs and a muffled groan. "Well, do you? Answer me!"

"N… no?" The mumbled response was a question itself.

"That's my entire livelihood you just tried to make off with, and it's a masterwork with some lovely enchantments I had to pay through the nose for." Another kick to the ribs followed the tirade, chorused by another moan by the unfortunate character lying on the slushy wagon-trail as he tried to dodge the booted foot of his assailant.

"Is there a problem?" Duncan asked, stepping forward to make himself known. He was surprised at the speed the cloaked character with the harp case on her back turned around to face him and his eyes widened as he saw he was now at the sharp end of a rapier.

"No problem at all," her voice was purring, deadly, "is there?" She directed the question towards the hapless thief on the road. She stepped back from him then, allowing him to scramble out of reach of the blade she had whipped back towards him.

"No, none at all." Duncan couldn't help but snicker as the bandit's voice came out many octaves higher than it should be. The man rolled onto his hands and knees and scrambled away into the fields that edged the mere.

"Are you alright?" he asked the woman as she swung the harp case off her back and inspected it.

"I'm fine," she smiled up at him and Duncan was dazzled for a moment by the pretty face that had been hidden in the dark folds of the hood just a moment before. Then a frown replaced the smile as she began to untie the straps of the oilskin harp case, "but if that bastard has damaged my harp, I'm going to hunt him down and kill him. I'm supposed to be playing at the inn in Willowmere tonight."

Duncan watched as finely sculpted hands inspected the beautiful instrument they held. He'd never seen a finer example of a travelling harp before. He heard her sigh, content there was no damage and watched as she lovingly sealed it back up again.

"I'm heading that way, myself," Duncan spoke, a little uncertain how she would greet his statement, "if you'd like the company, that is?" He was rewarded with another of her dazzling smiles.

"I'm never adverse to travelling a ways with a handsome young fellow such as yourself. And you are?" She held out a hand in greeting and after a moment he took it and shook it heartily.

"My name is Duncan."

"Pleased to meet you, Duncan. I'm Esmerelle."


	4. Chapter 4

"Eh, on yer own tonight, Kelghar?" Duncan asked as Kelghar set a tankard of ale on the table and sat down on the bench opposite him.

"Yeh," Kelghar rumbled in response. "The tree-hugger is off meditating in the park outside the Blacklake District and yer niece is off doing somethin' shady with that demoness which apparently doesn't require my bull in a pottery shop touch."

"Were ye supposed to be somewhere else?" Duncan asked.

"Nah, hangin' around with them monks got a wee bit too boring for me. Figured I'd come back here and watch the fights with a pint in me hand. Can't think of a better way to spend an evenin'… apart from actually bein' part of the brawl, that is." His comment got a smile out of the Innkeeper.

"Yer not a Harbourman," Duncan began, tentatively, "so where'd ye meet my niece, if ye don't mind me askin'?" He'd barely had time to talk to his niece the past few days, let alone have a conversation with her companions. He wanted to know more about them all, especially his niece, and the best way to find out about was to get a chance to talk to them all one on one.

"Funny thing, that," Kelghar snorted, "would you believe we met in a bar brawl?"

"Ye were fightin' my niece in a bar?" Duncan's response came out in a strangled growl and Kelghar held a hand up to stop him from getting out of his seat.

"No, not at all," he gestured for Duncan to hold his horses for a moment, "the little spitfire jumped right into the middle of my fight like I needed the help!" The dwarf's voice said it all. "I mean, did it look like I couldn't handle three young thugs?"

"So which bar was this? The one in West Harbour?"

"No, The Weepin' Willow Inn. It's on the road from the Mere to Highcliff. There used to be a village there at one time. I heard it was destroyed during that last rampage of the King of Shadows."

"Aye," Duncan answered softly, "there was a village there. It was called Willowmere. Quaint little place, it was, and one hell of a bard played there twice a year. Ah, but she'd the voice of an angel and, by god, her mastery of the harp could make a grown man weep…" Duncan trailed off as his mind's eye conjured up a memory from the past.

"Knew the place well then, did ye?" Kelghar observed a moment later when Duncan shook himself out of his remembrances.

"I did. Do ye know where the inn got its new name from?"

"I think I do now," Kelghar raised his tankard and knocked it against Duncan's causing the liquid to slosh around.

"Here's to the memory of times past, of places past, and most of all, of people past." Duncan toasted before slamming back the entirety of what was in his cup.

"Hey," the shrill and petulant voice of Neeshka cut through the tavern as the door of The Sunken Flagon opened, "that's not fair, I earned that coin. Give it back, it's mine!"

"Fine, have it," came the exasperated response from his niece, "I only wanted to take a look at it because it's got some interesting markings on it."

The maudlin mood and conversational intimacy between the dwarf and half-elf was now broken, but at least Duncan knew more about his foster-kin than he had before.


End file.
